Gradual
by misgivings
Summary: "Will you marry me?" Glimpses into John and Phil's relationship over the years. Punk/Cena, slash.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Sadly.

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><p>It's 2006 when they first meet. With an outstretched hand and a cocky grin, John introduces himself with a simple, "John Cena."<p>

"CM Punk," Punk responds, firmly shaking the other man's hand.

"Listen, how'd you like to be on TV?"

Punk quirks an eyebrow in question. "What did you have in mind?"

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><p>Five years come and go and both men find themselves aghast at the situation they had been thrown into. They were CM Punk and John Cena. They hated each other. They <em>hated<em> each other. _They hated each other_. Shit like this wasn't supposed to be happening. They weren't supposed to like one another, let alone have sex.

"Fuck," Punk mutters. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

"Yes, we did." Punk glares at John from across the room, the other man throwing his arms up in defense. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"You're hilarious, you know that?"

"Is that a compliment I hear?"

"Fuck you," Punk spat.

"You just did."

Punk was out the door before John could even blink.

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><p>For the longest time, Punk ponders over where he and John stood relationship wise, finding himself unable to describe their relationship. Were they dating? Were they just screwing around? He isn't sure.<p>

He isn't sure if there were any real underlying feelings or if it was just purely sex. They never bothered labeling their relationship. They never referred to one another as _boyfriends_. They never called each other _fuck buddies_. They were just _them_ and so long as they had each other, they could care less. They'd been more than content with the occasional hook-ups.

They had spent countless nights lying in each other's warm embrace and as unlikely as they'd found the situation, they were indifferent to it. All that mattered in those moments was them. It was Phil Brooks and John Cena lying under those covers. It wasn't the outspoken voice of the voiceless and it wasn't the champ. It was Phil and John, John and Phil. Their wrestling personas were left behind in the ring; the Punk and Cena that feuded between those ropes didn't join Phil and John when they left the arena together. As far as both men were concerned, they ceased to exist for the shortest of times.

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><p>"What are we doing, John?" Phil asks one night.<p>

John shifted on the bed so that he was making direct eye contact with the other man. "The truth?" Punk nodded. "I don't have a fucking clue," John murmured. He sighed, placing a soft kiss on Phil's shoulder before climbing off the bed. Punk watched with curious eyes as John made his way across the room to pick up the pair of jeans that had been haphazardly thrown onto the floor just moments before.

"What are you doing?"

John turned around, flashing a grin in Punk's direction. "Close your eyes."

Punk hesitated before obliging and doing as he was told. He felt the bed dip next to him and shortly following it, a small, velvet box being placed in his hand. Punk pried his eyes open and dared to look down at the tiny box lying ever so tauntingly in his grasp.

"Open it," John instructed. Punk opened it, sucking in a sharp breath as he did. "I'm not asking you to marry me," John explained. "But what I am asking you is if you'd be willing to give this a shot. To give _us_ a shot."

"You mean in an exclusive relationship?"

"That's exactly what I mean. I'm not saying that we should invade a news station and publicly announce our relationship, but I want to be in an actual relationship with you. I want to be able to call you my partner — my boyfriend. I want to be able to know that this is, in fact, a _relationship_ and not some ongoing secret love affair. I like you, Phil. I like you a lot. And I'm willing to give us a shot if you are. What do you say?"

A smile tugged at Punk's lips as he played with the small silver band. "I'd say you're absolutely nuts, but that'd just be the pot calling the kettle black. I would love to, you big goof." John laughed at the term of endearment before leaning down to capture Punk's lips with his own.

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><p>"I love you." The words seem to come out on their own accord, almost effortlessly. It's the most natural feeling in the world to finally tell Phil the three words he'd been dying to say. The smile on the smaller man's lips is worth the slightly nauseous feeling due to the butterflies fluttering around furiously in his stomach; the deafening sound of his heart beating rapidly; the numb, lead-like feeling in his limbs.<p>

Phil pulls John closer to a place a chaste kiss on his lips before murmuring, "I love you, too."

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><p>It's July of 2012, exactly one year after they started dating and six since they first met, when John finds himself perched on one knee, kneeling before the man he could only describe as the love of his life. "Will you marry me?"<p>

Punk stares down at John, stunned by the display. "Holy fuck," he breathes out. John glances up at Punk as various emotions flash across the younger man's face. "Yes. _Yes._" Punk's arms are around John before he can even place the ring in its new rightful spot, sending them both crashing onto the hotel floor.

Punk kisses John forcefully, lips trembling and hands gripping onto the other man as if his life depended on it. "Yes," he says once more. John's dimples are in full display as he slides the ring onto Punk's right hand. With a murmured _I love you_ in Punk's ear, Phil grins like a small child on Christmas morning and closes his eyes, basking in the moment.

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><p><em>I really just needed fluff in my life, because quite frankly, you guys are killing me with all the angst. Reviews aren't necessary but greatly appreciated.<em>


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